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I Wrote a Poem in the Eighth Grade

by Clebbus

I once wrote a poem in the eighth grade. One about a man chained downed being tortured by his own mind. The kind you look at and think “That kid needs help.” My poem got published in a book filled with other poems not unlike my own. I suppose I felt proud. But mostly, I felt wildly insulted. Insulted that my family didn’t have a single human thing to say about it, just the bland and almost expected mentality of “What a cute drawing, I’ll put it on the fridge.” I was pissed that my obvious subconscious cry for help went completely unturned by my childhood pillars, my Fucking family.

And then a year later I regurgitated 60 pills onto the bathroom floor.

 

I don’t know, this was on my mind tonight.

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3 comments

hope432 7/11/2019 - 6:19 am

I care although the poem is “black” art. It shows the depth of your feelings inside. I am sorry that your family didn’t care.

“My poem got published in a book filled with other poems not unlike my own. I suppose I felt proud.”

Perhaps you can still become an artist? It doesn’t matter what your family says. You should get along with them until you find a way to leave home?

shatterediris 7/11/2019 - 2:51 pm

It’s amazing how much people are willing to ignore.

justsad21 7/12/2019 - 12:48 am

I feel you. Most people can’t understand what is like to be tortured day and night by your own mind

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